


This One Will Be Ours

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-03
Updated: 2010-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel learns important cultural lessons</p>
            </blockquote>





	This One Will Be Ours

Dean and Sam spend most of New Year's Eve clearing ghosts out of an abandoned motel. Because the dead never give people a break for holidays. On the bright side, it means free rooms for the night, even if they are dusty and full of broken furniture.

They drink beer and listen to the faraway bursts of fireworks, before finding a room without smashed windows and continuing the drinking where it's warm. Slouched out on faded sheets, pulling out all the crazy New Year's they've been through. How the years have a habit of starting while something else is busy dying. Or undying, whatever the hell it is when you kill a ghost, a zombie, or a wraith. Permanently ceasing to freakin' exist.

Sam's singing 'Auld Lang Syne' under his breath, in a drunken sort of way. Dean's willing to bet he'll be asleep first. Hell, tip him over and he'd probably go now. Sam's a pretty good vertical drunk, but he's a shitty horizontal one.

Talking of drunk, they need more beer. Dean dusts off his jeans and goes to get more out of the car.

It's freezing in the overgrown parking lot and he can see his breath every time he exhales. The tails of his shirt quickly growing crisp in the cold. All the fireworks have stopped. The sky's just a big sheet of darkness, spotted here and there with stars.

He's dragging another pack out of the backseat when there's a familiar fluttering sound and Dean can see the tan of Castiel's trench coat brushing the metal of the car

"Hey, Cas, you drinking?" He straightens up, pushes the door shut with a knee, and turns around.

Castiel looks that same flavour of curious and dishevelled that he always does. Like that place between worlds where he goes is full of wind.

Castiel's hands are cold when they touch his face and Dean goes still, hands tightening on the beer he's holding. He's half expecting to be teleported away somewhere. Some sort of strange emergency that can't wait, adrenaline trying to fight the wave of pleasant drunkenness he's managed to build up.

Instead the angel tips his head down and leans in. Castiel's mouth should be cold but it isn't. It's warm and it gives easily in one long press. A faint hint of roughness at the edges. Dean makes a noise under it. Something surprised, something confused.

And then Castiel's hands are sliding from his face and Dean's mouth is so much colder.

He stares, stupidly.

"Cas?"

"It's a custom, is it not?" Castiel's voice is quietly serious.

"A what?" Dean's feeling every inch as drunk as he wasn't a second ago.

"You should take that to Sam," Castiel says firmly.

Dean looks down, where he's still holding the beer.

"Yeah," he manages.

He has no idea how he makes it back to the room. Sam's still sitting propped against the headboard of the other bed, boots fallen off the edge. One of his socks is missing. Dean's not entirely sure whether he was wearing it or not when he left. He has no idea why that's even important.

"Did you tell Cas he had to kiss me because it was New Year's?" he blurts out.

Sam chokes on the beer he's just tipped into his mouth. It comes straight out in a mess of bubbles and coughing.

"No," Sam says, awkwardly, wetly. "What - he kissed you?"

Dean can't quite get any words out. Because Sam makes it sound way more insane than it was.

Sam squints at him. "What did you do - did you do something?"

"I didn't do anything," Dean protests, annoyed at the fact Sam would immediately think that he did.

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't."

Sam's dubious eyebrow raise turns into a frown, and Dean doesn’t even know what the hell that's supposed to mean.

"I didn't do anything," he says again. In a stupid sort of way. It occurs to him that maybe he could have done something. Something other than just _stand there_ while an angel kissed him. Because, clueless as Cas can be sometimes, Dean's fairly sure they just had a moment - that he completely ignored like the fucking idiot he is.

Sam points at the door and doesn't say a word.

"Damn it." Dean drops the beer on the table and heads back out.

  



End file.
